


Welcome Home, Jimmy

by MissViolet



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissViolet/pseuds/MissViolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House asks Wilson to move back in. Hot action ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home, Jimmy

Wilson still had the spare key. He unlocked the door to 221B, feeling a little apprehensive. He had never been entirely sure whether House wanted to kick him out or make him stay. Finally, he'd picked up and moved to a hotel, half-hoping House would stop him, but he had simply shrugged his indifference. Wilson compensated for his depression by working later and later at the hospital, going back to his hotel only to sleep.

He had been eating dinner in his office last night when House walked in, ate one of his French fries, and said, "You can stay with me if you want. I never said you had to go."

"Not in so many words, but there was a certain passive-aggressive behavior that tipped me off." Wilson slid his plate closer, hoping to salvage a few fries for himself. But House was not dissuaded. He sat down, reached across the desk to help himself, and said, "So you have to do the dishes, big deal. It's cheaper than a hotel, it's closer to the hospital, you can drive me to work, and you can even have the den to yourself, if you don't mind sleeping on the floor. At least, until you work up the nerve to get your own place."

"I don't think 'driving you to work' qualifies as a benefit, but you do make a convincing argument. Can I really stay with you till I find a place?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Might as well save your money, you'll be paying alimony number 3 pretty soon." House stood up. "You can come back anytime," he said casually.

Thus Wilson came to be standing in House's entryway, looking at the darkened living room. House's cane was hooked over the hallway chair, so he couldn't be far off. Wilson put his suitcase down uncertainly and walked into the apartment. The bedroom door was half-open and he peeked in. House was napping in his clothes, rumpled blue button-down half-open over his tee shirt, long legs in faded jeans poking out from underneath a rust-colored wool blanket. Wilson had the sudden thought that it would be nice to lie down next to him. His bed was large enough for two, and he had rolled all the way over to one side. It would be nicer than a nap on the lumpy sofa. He had half-resolved to do it when House stirred and looked at him sleepily.

"Welcome home, Jimmy," he said, still half-asleep, and he sounded almost glad to see him. Wilson found it hard to read his cagey friend, except when he was drowsy, and then he was always forthright.

"Thanks for letting me crash here. I'm looking into real estate this weekend, so this is only temporary." House made a noncommittal noise of disbelief and rolled over onto his back. "Take all the time you need, Wilson."

"Really? It's no bother?"

"Of course it's a bother," said House dismissively. "Let's set some ground rules, okay? No blow-drying your silky tresses before 10 a.m. on weekdays. And not at all on weekends. Clip your toenails at night. And you have to do all the dishes."

"I start work at 9:00. How am I supposed to blow-dry my hair?"

"Don't bother. I don't, and my hair looks just fine."

"That's debatable, but fine, I guess I can dry my hair in the office."

"Or you could quit being so gay about your hair."

"It's not _gay_ to want to look good."

"Metrosexual, then."

Wilson sighed and turned away. House was still House, and inviting him back didn't mean he'd be immune from his barbs.

"Don't sulk about it. Come here," said House. Wilson turned around.

"Come closer," House said, patting the bed next to him, indicating that he should sit down. Wilson sat gingerly. It was a little strange, sitting on House's bed. He'd never done it before. But certainly he'd thought of it, especially his last night on House's sofa, and suddenly he felt himself blushing.

"You know why I invited you back, don't you?" asked House.

"Actually, I have no idea, seeing as you practically drove me out."

"I didn't _drive_ you out. I _freaked_ you out. There's a difference."

"You didn't freak me out."

"Scared you off, then."

"I'm not scared."

"Prove it."

"I'm not." Wilson sighed. Apparently, their conversation was going to be long and awkward. He leaned back into House, resting himself across his chest. "Must I convince you?"

"Yeah, go on and convince me. I need to be persuaded." House slipped his right arm around Wilson's shoulders, drawing him closer, and Wilson slipped off his loafers and curled his feet around House's torso. He pulled the wool blanket over both of them.

***

"I'm not convinced yet," said House, nestling himself closer. His eyes were closed, and his arm tightened around Wilson's shoulders. Wilson bent and brushed their lips together briefly. "Mm," said House, shifting his hips so that Wilson could feel his erection. He remembered then that House always woke from his naps with a hard-on.

"Parts of you feel pretty convinced," said Wilson.

"Let's have another kiss, then, to refresh my memory," and House slid out from under Wilson and maneuvered himself so that he was leaning over him, bending down for a kiss. "I missed you," he sighed, and lightly traced Wilson's lips with his tongue, coaxing his mouth open so he could kiss him properly, and Wilson was yielding up to him, wrapping one arm around his neck, eagerly twining his tongue around House's with increasing urgency.

"I've been lonely, too," Wilson admitted. "That hotel room is so damned sterile."

"I'll keep you company," said House, and Wilson brought his other arm around House's neck, latching his hands to pull House closer to him possessively. He arched his back a little to brush his cock against House's stiff one, pulled his head down for another hot open-mouthed kiss. His heart raced at House being so near; he was remembering what happened the first time, right before he packed up and left. How good House's naked body had felt under his touch, the sharp pleasure of coming under his steady hand, and again into his tight wet mouth, and how utterly sated he was when they finally fell asleep tangled together in the messy sheets. He hadn't slept as well since; he'd been restless, aching in some unknown place never knew could hurt him so.

They kissed slowly, romantically, and House was unhurried, not frenzied like the first time. His lips were soft and sweet, his hands slow as he loosened Wilson's tie, unbuttoned his shirt. He trailed his fingers down Wilson's chest lovingly, and Wilson slipped one arm around House's shoulders, and rested his other hand on his jaw, stroked his rough stubble. House was propped up on one elbow, just gazing at him, and for once there was nothing artful or calculated in his expression; it was pure and unfettered affection. Wilson shifted himself slightly to slide himself closer, deeper into House's personal space, an unconsciously submissive movement. House slid both hands up his chest, then down again, all the way to his waist, and again, then he stopped his hands, held them motionless over Wilson's pectorals. House's breathing was elevated, he tightened his hands over Wilson's chest, looked down at him, and his eyes were so intensely blue that Wilson shivered, though he wasn't sure why. His fingers skimmed over Wilson's nipples, teasing him, pinching a little, making him gasp softly and twist his torso.

"Ah, Jimmy," he said, almost thoughtfully, but there was a quiet desperation in his voice, and he was stroking off Wilson's shirt, and tossing it over the side of the bed, leaning in for a deep kiss. Wilson arched off the bed, he wrapped one leg around House's ass to pull them closer together as they kissed passionately, the heat between them flaring up from a cozy warmth to a passionate hot rush.

"Yeah, oh _yeah_," said Wilson nonsensically, as House collapsed gently on top of him so that their cocks brushed together, hot and hard, and he reached down and fumbled at House's jeans, trying to work open his zipper, but it was impossible because House was kissing him again, rocking his hips, so that waves of need and heat and pleasure washed over him, his mouth gaped open, hands scrabbling through House's hair.

House paused to remove his shirt, and Wilson gazed up at him, transfixed. His body was nothing spectacular, he was lean and nicely toned for a man of his age, but Wilson was so eager for it, he panted in expectation as House unclothed himself, swinging around to sit on the bed to pull off his jeans. When he was completely naked, he slid back into bed, resuming his position. The heat from his body was tangible. "Now you," he said, and he unzipped Wilson's fly; and at the sound, Wilson felt his heart skip a beat, and then House's hands were on him, and he closed his eyes and yielded to the sweet sharp pleasure that was spreading throughout his body, and the soft heat of his lips, kissing urgently as he removed every shred of clothing until he was laid bare and straining and downright eager for it.

When House settled his naked body against him, so there was nothing at all between them, Wilson groaned in satisfaction, and House laughed soft and low, and whispered _hell yeah_ as their hard cocks slid together.

***

House waited until Wilson was hot and writhing under his touch before he slipped a well-lubricated finger up his ass. Wilson, shocked, gripped his shoulders tightly, arched his neck, one eye glaring at him from under a fall of damp brown hair. House waited patiently until Wilson relaxed his muscles and accepted him, then worked his finger a little deeper, seeking that sweet spot. He knew he found it when Wilson moaned quietly. House crooked his finger to stroke his prostate softly. He leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"How is it?" he asked, and Wilson's reply was breathless and inaudible. House turned Wilson's chin, leaned down for an open-mouthed kiss with lots of tongue. Wilson kissed him sloppily, panting in time to House's finger caressing his sensitive spot. He arched his back to force House's finger deeper, rubbing his slick cock all over the tangled sheets beneath him.

"Good," he finally said in a strained voice. It was so different from any other sexual pleasure; shivery and delicious, like his cock was being stroked from the inside out. It felt so wanton, so good, he blushed hotly with mingled shame and pleasure as House worked him until he was thrusting into the mattress, soft little cries escaping his lips.

"You're ready for me," House murmured into his ear, and he removed his finger, grasped Wilson around the waist, rubbed his slippery hands all over Wilson's cock and balls.

"Mmm," said Wilson, almost beyond speech. His balls felt full and heavy, and there was a sweet longing ache in his hole where House's fingers had been. Then House's cock was nudging slowly at his entrance, sliding in ever so slowly and gently, and Wilson gritted his teeth with pleasurable anticipation. After several minutes, House was in up to his balls. He held himself motionless, feeling Wilson's tight ass contract around his cock. He wanted to be careful not to hurt him, but Wilson rolled his hips back and forth, encouraging him to move. He began to thrust slowly, and the pleasure of possessing Wilson so utterly was overwhelming. Wilson strained in his arms, moaning softly, encouraging him to thrust faster.

House slipped his hand under their bodies to make sure Wilson was enjoying it, and yes, his cock was heavy and slick in his hand. House stroked it, and was rewarded with Wilson's desperate groan, and his ass twitched, squeezing his cock so delightfully.

"Yeah, you like getting fucked, don't you?" whispered House. He couldn't rein in his filthy language, not buried so deeply in Wilson's tight ass, with one hand stroking his leaking, throbbing cock.

"Yes," whispered Wilson, so soft it was barely audible.

House bent to taste his neck, and Wilson trembled under his kiss. House bit his neck gently, a hot flush of pain that made Wilson's prick stiffen. He fucked him slowly, grinding his hips, stroking his cock, bending to exchange wet kisses. He whispered in his ear, filthy loving words to spur him on. House's cock nudged rhythmically against his prostate, and Wilson groaned softly as the pleasure washed over him.

"Harder," he moaned, hands fisting the sheets, arching his back, pushing his wet prick into House's tight grasp.

House slipped his hand softly around his throat, caressed his neck. He rubbed Wilson's chin, ran his fingers over his wet mouth. Wilson sucked his finger lewdly.

"You like that, huh, Jimmy," said House breathlessly, beginning to pound his ass into the mattress. The bed creaked, and the room was filled with their amorous sighs and lustful moans of abandon.

"Fuck, yeah," whimpered Wilson. House was rocking into him, squeezing his cock so delightfully, pushing against his prostate, making him squirm with pleasure. He was so hot, so overcome with lust, he felt utterly filled, vulnerable and possessed, and he loved it. He turned his head, opened his mouth, the tip of his tongue touched his lips in an unspoken invitation to be kissed. House bent low, thrust his hot tongue into his mouth, twining it, he grabbed Wilson's hair, moaned into his ear, filthy loving words about his tight ass and how good he felt, how hot and sweet, and finally disintegrating into helpless lusty cries. He slid his hand underneath Wilson's body, caressed his chest, pinched his nipples; the other hand was still stroking Wilson's leaking cock, making a nice tight sheath for him to thrust into it, and from the way he was bucking his hips, it wouldn't be long now.

"You close?" he groaned into Wilson's ear. He had been gritting his teeth in an agonized effort not to come, because he wanted to enjoy Wilson's climax. He was thrashing into the sheets and moaning so loudly, it was going to be a good one.

"Fuck me hard," Wilson gasped out, and House began to rock into him, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other pulling his hair almost painfully, but Wilson didn't mind, because the delightful heat was spreading from somewhere behind his balls, which were drawing up, tightening, and he was arching almost off the mattress, and House was biting his neck, moaning obscenities into his ear, as he jerked him harder and faster, grinding his rigid cock into his ass, nudging him closer to heaven, and finally Wilson gave a hard sob, heaving his ass off the bed, his face was mashed into the pillows, his whole body clenched as the waves of pleasure washed over him, and the sweet fiery ache deep in his asshole spread to his balls, his prick, and then he was coming in huge spurts, trembling as he soaked House's hand, and the sheets below, he was coming so hard, his body shaking with the effort, as House continued to rub his drenched prick slowly, until he stroked out the last few drops and Wilson groaned loudly in spent pleasure, his body still shuddering with delight.

"Yeah, that's hot," said House, his voice just a rasp in Wilson's ear. He was letting go, abandoning himself to his fast-approaching climax, his prick was stiff and raw, and Wilson's tight hole was still twitching around him, like a gorgeous hot velvet glove milking the come right out of his balls. He bent low, brushed aside Wilson's damp hair, whispered naughty endearments into his ear. One hand was still wrapped around Wilson's softening cock, and he rubbed his come all over his belly, feeling with pleasure how wet he was, how hard he'd climaxed; Wilson was utterly fucked-out, but still moaning softly as he felt House drilling into him harder, faster, and finally House went rigid, his body tensed, he sank his teeth into Wilson's shoulder, coming hard, thrusting his hips in slow circles, pushing himself deeper into Wilson's tight ass as he spurted again and again, until finally, with a long, lascivious moan, his pleasure was complete, and sank down exhausted on Wilson's back. Wilson was still shuddering in the aftermath, and every time he did so, House moaned and his body jerked uncontrollably, as if they were connected by the same electrical impulse.

"Fucking gorgeous," House whispered, utterly exhausted. He finally allowed himself to slip out of Wilson, turned him over forcibly for a long, tired kiss, sliding their wet bodies together, limbs tangling, mouths open to mingle all their sweat and spit and come together in a final blissful moment of spent pleasure.

"God, I missed you," Wilson whispered, utterly laid bare by what they'd just experienced.

"Welcome home, Jimmy," said House in a tired voice, and he held Wilson's arms tightly, to make sure that he knew he'd never let go of him again.


End file.
